


Papa Loa Extravaganza

by Haunt_Haunt_Haunt



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Based on a World of Darkness Game, Boo on the Cammys, Canon-Typical Cultural insensitivity, Drugs, Drugs Made Them Do It, Gen, Harmful Stereotypes, Independent Alliance, Loose Canon and Mechanics, Lots of Drugs, Pisanob, Samedi, Setites, This is a Gift?, Tremere - Freeform, Tremere Sorcery, Why do Setites Gotta be Pretty?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt/pseuds/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt
Summary: Papa lost a shipment, and he's conned Violet into playing detective with him to find it. Hence the hangover-esque adventure! Not all of undead life has to be droll and serious, and Papa is here to make sure everyone has a good time.





	Papa Loa Extravaganza

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YogSoThots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogSoThots/gifts).

> This was made as a gift using canon from a game that isn't out of the book. This will not apply to World of Darkness canon or Meta-plot, nor will it apply very hard to the mechanics found in the World of Darkness setting. This was created as a comisson solely for comedic purposes, and all readers should be aware that this SHOULD NOT be taken seriously. These stereotypes are very harmful irl, and this does not need to be a way to act or think.
> 
> I do not own any of the trademarks, be they clans, factions, or anything except the original characters presented in this fiction. I am not making money on this fiction.

The smell was the first thing I noticed. It was always the smell. Definitely rotting, whatever it was, but there was a heavy overtone of marijuana, and that’s when I heard the singing, in that old gnarled voice, off key and terrible. Almost raspy, like the dry rustling of paper, but under it there was a solid baritone.

“Buffalo soldier! Dreadlock Rasta! There was a Buffalo Soldier! In the heart of America!”

To most people, something like this, they would smile politely and walk away, but my eyes lit up like Christmas lights, and I jumped from my workbench and ran down the old polished steps, leap jumping into the man’s arms. He squished, and he crunched, but that didn’t matter.

“Hello, Muertita!” He said, scooping me up.

“Papa!” I yelled, no doubt disturbing the whole house. The manservant took the cane and coat that had clattered to the floor.

This suit was white, but he still had the tattered black top hat and the cane with the skull on it that I was so used to seeing. A door closed upstairs and my husband appeared on the balcony.

“I was wondering what that terrible cajoling was. Good evening, Papa,” he said.

“Good evening to you, Ricardo. How is my favorite family?”

“Busy. I’ve got two trucks stopped right now, so if you don’t mind, I need to work.”

“Of course, I needed Muertita anyway,” he said, putting me down. Ricardo went off into the other room. The manservant shambled off, and that left me, Papa, and Seraphim, who was trying his hardest to watch television. From the sounds of it, it was Hawaii 5-0.

I smoothed out my flowy dress. “You need me? Isn’t it time for the shipment? You know I can’t lift that.”

“Ah, there is the problem, Flora.” He sniffed, straightening his top hat. “I need an investigator. You and I are going to go play detective.”

I immediately got defensive. “Papa, what did you do?”

“Ehhhh.”

“Papa Loa, explain.”

“I may have, eh, misplaced the shipment.”

“You what?” I mom voiced him. I didn’t mean to.

“I can’t remember a thing from yesterday, but I woke up at home on a pile of money and there was a goat. I distinctly remembered that I did not own a farm, so I shooed it away.”  
“Is this the coke? How much did you lose?”

“Well, my clipboard says 30 kilos.”

“You lost 30 kilos of cocaine. You lost it? How do you lose 30 kilos?”

“That is what you are going to help me find out, Bonita.”

So that’s how it all started. I went up to my room and clipped on the little top hat barrette that he got me a few years ago and I did my face. It didn’t take long, and then I was in his white Cadillac, rolling through Fayetteville, then through Greenland, and all the way out in the backwoods. Before long, we were at his farmhouse. It wasn’t large, only two stories and maybe three bedrooms, and I could see the lights for the farm hand’s house in the distance. There were guards patrolling the area armed with rifles, and, oh yeah, there was a shitload of pot right outside the front door. Say what you want, Papa is very organized, and the pot was in nice clean rows. I had to wonder who he had paid off to keep someone from investigating the clear cutting when he moved here, but for all I know, he had been here since the 1800s. Definitely longer than me. We got out of the Cadillac and went inside, him thumping his cane as we went.

“So, I figure that this is where the search should start. What do you see?”

What do I smell would have been more apt. God, it reeked, but that was just Papa. Being an old dead guy kinda made you smell. I looked around. We both did. I checked the kitchen, then the bedroom, and he went off upstairs to check in the mushroom enclosure. The house needed a cleaning, but otherwise, there wasn’t much there. It was decorated in the style of New Orleans in the 1800s. I marveled at it all. The canes, the calvary sabers on the walls, but the best part was the urn. I couldn’t touch the urn, of course, but it sat on the mantle, bronze and shining. It was probably the most important thing he owned. He said that it contained the ashes of a powerful vampire, but I never really got to check. That’s when I spotted it. A small business card was tucked into the ashes of the fireplace. The fire had been lit the night before, and the business card was mostly burned, but it was white, so I knew it was new. I picked it out of the fire. The name and everything was gone, but on the business card was the symbol of some eye, with a dagger piercing it.

“Papa!” I yelled, and I heard his cane thump above as he slowly came back down the stairs. I showed him the tattered card when he got to me.

“Hmm. Odd,” he said.

“Do you not recognize it?”

“Bah. If I recognized it, I would have said,” he chided.

“Geez. Chill.”

He looked thoughtful. “I think I know someone that may know it. Let’s go ask Tennoch.”

Let’s not, I thought to myself. That was still something I didn’t like to think about. The one time you cheat on your husband, and you get pregnant. Damn him and his fucking body and his beautiful disgusting face. “Is there an alternative?”

He looked at me like I was stupid. “Do you know another information broker?”

I sighed, and we left and got back in the car, making the long drive back down the driveway and into town. Dickson was crowded, but then, it was a Friday night. He parked in a spot and went to pay for it, and I stared at the bar in dread. The Snake and the Apple used to be my favorite place to go, but now it was just bad memories. If Ricardo ever knew, I knew that either Tennoch or him would end up dead, and honestly, they were both integral to the town’s underworld. I didn’t want to see either of them hurt, really. I just wanted to keep my head down. The neon sign was a snake curled around an apple, and taking a bite of it. We both went inside.

The outside was far more toned down than the inside. The entire place was filled with smoke. It was one of the few public establishments you could smoke in, so I guess that wasn’t surprising. The colored lights shone through the haze, giving it the appearance that the very air was glowing. The room was divided up into four areas, each one painted like a scene from mythology. There was an Egyptian room, painted like it had the Du’at running through it, a Greek room that was in blues and greens. It resembled Hades. There was a Nordic room, which was in reds. It was supposed to resemble Hel’s realm, Niflheim, and then there was the bar. That was the most unsettling room of all. Painted across the top part was glowing golden cobra eyes, and the bar itself was actually a terrarium where the mascot hung out. Monty. He was a giant ball python. Most people thought the joke was Monty Python, but I knew that the name was shortened. He was Montezuma, and he was a lot stronger than he looked. A ghouled snake was generally like that. We walked over to the bar, and manning it was what it looked like when he and I had a child. She had dark wavy hair, dark skin, and my figure. She was also smacking on gum and paying attention to her phone.

“Ahem,” Papa said to her rather loudly.

She glanced up, and looked surprised. “Hey mom. Papa. I didn’t think you’d come back for a while after that scene you made last night.” She said it all in Spanish.

“Scene I made? I can assure you it was for a good reason. Papa does not cause scenes wantonly,” he said, putting a hand to his chest.

She quirked an eyebrow. “How high were you?”

“Probably very,” he replied.

“Hold on.” She turned and yelled across the bar. “Dad! Mom and Papa are here!”

And he came over. The mistake. He was very smooth, and very graceful, walking like a cat over to us. His own eyes were golden, like it was made of ingots, and his skin was the color of bronze. The dark hair on his face was scruffy, and I knew firsthand what it felt like. I shuddered thinking about it. Why did he still do this to me? But that was his whole schtick. Be the Aztec god he was, and he could know everything. He had his finger on the pulse of the city, and he probably also fingered anything with a pulse IN the city. If you needed anything, be it lawyers, guns, money, sex, drugs, or info, Tennoch was the guy that could get it… for a price. He was the snake in the Garden of Eden, and his price normally pulled you into that depravity with him. He’d done it to me.

“Papa. I’m surprised to see you again so soon,” he said. His voice could make me swoon, and his eyes flicked to me, but only for an instant. He almost looked angry, but it was that dark sexy angry. I hated it.

“This again. I tell you, son, I have no idea what I have done, but I assure you, it’s not as bad as you think.”

His look could have melted ice. “Papa, you owe me $20,000 in damages. My house is destroyed. And I don’t know what happened to the sacrifice.”

My jaw dropped, but Papa put a hand to his chin. “Was it a goat by chance?”

Tennoch cursed something in Nahuatl. I don’t know what it was, but knowing Tennoch, it was very vulgar and probably involved fucking Papa’s mother. “Look, whatever you want, I can’t help you. Normally I enjoy your inebriated antics, but this was going too far. I’m out.”

I sighed. “Then do it for me.”

“Oh, chica. Last time I checked, you thought my prices were too steep,” he said, glancing at Yaya, who was doing the same game he was, but to a frat boy down at the end of the bar. She always had the best tips. He also did this thing with his voice; it was half a growl or something.

“Drop the act, Tennoch. I just need you to identify a symbol. Name your price.”

“Well, that depends on the symbol. You gonna let me see it, or do I get to reach into your pocket for it?” He reached over like he was gonna put his hand in my tits. God I hated him, but I didn’t, and it was really complicated. I slapped his hand anyway, then reached in myself and withdrew the tattered business card. He took it with a sleazy smile, then glanced at it. I watched his façade fall for just a second. It was small, but it was in his eyes.

“Violet, what have you stepped into?” He said, and started tsking me.

“What’s your price?”

He pursed his lips and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and looking at the card. “Tell you what, you get this fuck to pay me back, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Again with this slander. Do you think that Papa does not pay his debts?” He asked, reaching into his white coat.

“You stiffed me on your drink too. Make it $20,004.95,” Tennoch said.

Papa cursed in his own language too. This one was French, and it I understood. He pulled out a checkbook and started writing in it, making it out a cent more than Tennoch had asked for.

“And a penny for your thoughts,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone, and passed it over. Tennoch took it.

“I don’t know the symbol exactly, but I know it’s a variation that has been cropping up all over recently. Mostly in graffiti. It’s not a gang. I know that. Could be Anarchs, but they’re sloppy. Get with the Tremere. Shaun in particular was looking into it.”

Finally. I took the card out of his hand and we left, not so much as a word. “Papa, you still owe me a sacrifice,” he said as we left.

“Alright, what the shit did you do?” I asked once we stepped out of the door.

“I honestly don’t know. This is a fun trip,” he said, tapping his cane.

“No Papa, this is The Hangover. This is not fun.”

“You are hung over? Shall we get you a burger on the way?”

I rolled my eyes, not knowing if he was being purposefully obtuse or if he had really never heard of the movie. We walked down the street, a black man in a white tux and a top hat, and a pasty white redhead in an evening dress. The stares were intense. I think the smell may have been worse. I had been working on a project when we left, so I was a little rank, and he never bathed, Or if he did, you couldn’t tell. One guy gagged as we went by. Papa stopped and watched him as he threw up, then reached into his coat and produced a peppermint.

“To wash the taste out,” he said and smiled. The kid just looked at him like he was looking at Satan himself and ran off down the street. Papa shrugged and put the mint back in his pocket. We got to the end of the street, and there the house was, right in the middle of the lawn in front of Old Main. I was still astounded that no one had run into it, even though they couldn’t see it. Fucking sorcery. We went up to the door and Papa rapped sharply, using his cane. The door creaked open and we went inside, going straight to Prince Estevez’ office. His door was open when we got there, and he smelled us before he saw us. At first he was surprised, then angry, then impressed, all in seconds. This man was very emotive.

“Papa Loa. Violet De Pisanob. You have a lot of fucking nerve.”

“Ah, this again. What did I do to you?” Papa asked, not missing a beat.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I spent all night covering up your masquerade violation. A walking fucking corpse goes down Dickson and throws a car at a goat while screaming in French! You don’t fucking remember that?”

Papa scratched his head. “Nope. Must have missed it.”

I had to repress a snort. The visual was amazing.

“You are so fucking lucky there is a treaty in place or I would ash you myself.”

“Hmm. Sad, no? I am here to speak to your Sheriff. Summon him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I did not stutter, nor do I have to suffer your wounded pride. Summon your sheriff.”

Estevez opened his mouth to continue screaming, but a light flicked on in the corner, and his no doubt witty retort died in his throat. He frowned and stood, storming out of the office. A few minutes later, the sheriff came in. He was cute too, but he smelled too much like bacon. Blonde, tan, pretty, he was perfect for the job of Sheriff.

“Fucking hell. I spent all night cleaning up your mess. What do you want?” Shaun asked.

“Not gonna yell at us? Threaten us?” I asked.

“Violet, if I felt the need to threaten you, you’d already be on fire. Genie is the one that screams at people. I’m the one that actually solves problems. Also, Papa, you’re warned. Don’t do it again.”

“Please hold while I weep. The child chastises the old man. What is this world coming to?”

Shaun actually snorted, but he didn’t smile. He never smiled. I almost felt bad for him. Did he know any happiness? “Alright. Now that the niceties are out of the way, what do you need?”

I withdrew the business card. “Tennoch said you’d know about this.”

He took the card, and if it was possible, he got even more frowny. He was at a solid 7.8 on the frowny Shaun scale. I was impressed. “This is troubling. Does it have to do with the car throwing?”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t remember, but I assure you I was on A LOT of cocaine.”

“Figures.” Shaun motioned for us to follow him and headed up the stairs. That was an ass I could stare at all day. He opened the door to a room, probably his room, and led us inside. There wasn’t much in here. There was a desk, a bed, a framed photo of him and a blonde girl, and a corkboard. That made me even more sad. I knew about Lucy. They were divorced. Why did he still have a picture of her? He saw me looking and frowned, then reached out and put the picture on its face. I felt like I had seen something I wasn’t supposed to. Why was he so sad?

“Alright, so here is what I know. The symbol has been appearing around town.” He snapped his fingers, and the corkboard suddenly had things on it? That was a nifty trick. There was a map of Fayetteville, and it had a lot of ink and pins on it. “Each pin represents a tag. That’s slang for a piece of graffiti, for the old man.”

Papa chuffed, but said nothing. Shaun continued. “As you can see, the pins are significantly more focused around the University and Leverett. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that they are radiating out from that area. Obviously, where the tags are heaviest is where we are gonna find the culprits.”

Papa nodded, but something was nagging at me. “Shaun, if this is simple graffiti, why are the Camarilla so interested? Is this not some mortal gang?”

He shook his head. “I wish. In the areas where the tags are heaviest, we have also seen a lot of animal mutilations, and a few people have been exsanguinated. The problem is, every time we go to move in to nab this rogue Kindred, There is nothing to be found. Whoever it is, he’s really good at going to ground.”

“You think this is another vampire?” Papa asked. “How many bodies have you found?”

“Too many. Enough for the police to ask questions. I have my ears to the ground. This is bordering on a Masquerade violation, and after your ‘vacation’ last night, there is talk of the Feds coming in. Feds mean Hunters, and Hunters mean no bueno for us. It’s hard to explain away a corpse lobbing an Escalade at a farm animal.”

I side-eyed Papa. He actually seemed to start thinking about his actions.

“Let us look into it,” I said quickly.

“No dice, beans and rice. You’ve already exacerbated the situation, or rather, he has,” he said, pointing at Papa.

“Let us do this. Think of it as penance. Besides, if you don’t try something new, your never gonna catch this guy. The Camarilla may be a powerhouse, but it moves too slow. Let the IA take this one.”

He seemed to think it over. “Fine. You have tonight. If it’s not dealt with by tomorrow, I’m gonna have to purge the sector.”

I knew what that meant. Shaun was gonna have to force this other guy’s hand, and that usually meant fires. A lot of them. Hunters would come down on us all for sure, but what choice did he really have? They were gonna come soon anyway. It was better to stamp out the problem, go to ground, and not give the hunters any reason to stick around. If he didn’t do it, and the Hunter’s found this rogue vampire, they were gonna start looking way harder. If they didn’t find him, he was gonna keep fucking around and they would start looking harder to find him, and then probably find us. It was a hard call.

“Talking to you is always a delightfully sobering experience, Mr. Cooper,” Papa said, probably putting the pieces together like I had.

“Glad I have some use. Call me as soon as it’s dealt with. If you need a squad, I can assemble a strike team.”

“If there are bodies, I have a strike team,” I responded.

“Oh yeah. I forgot. Call me. I trust you can see yourselves out.”

We got back to the Cadillac.

“So, you got a plan?” I asked.

“I think I know what happened,” Papa said, looking incredibly sober.

“Oh?”

“I think I sold a Sabbat pack a palette of cocaine.”

I quirked an eyebrow. That would be pretty impressive, even for him.

“I sold them cocaine, did some cocaine, and then the rest of this has been a result. Never do your own brand. This is why.”

“Please, you’re not gonna heed that advice.”

“You are absolutely right. I also know where to find them. Let’s go kill some Sabbat.”

We drove down to an apartment complex at the very end of Leverett. It was called Leverett Gardens. The place looked like they were trying to breathe life into a rotting corpse. The houses looked nice, and there was new construction, sure, but you could see some of the foundation cracking, and there were mattresses and gutted couches out near the dumpsters. That was usually indicative of a bed bug problem. We pulled in and Papa got out of the car. “Stay here.” He said, and made his way over to one of the apartments and knocked on the door with his cane. It opened then immediately closed. Papa did something I didn’t see him do often. He reached out and touched the door, and the whole thing rusted and decayed on the spot. That was a trick of the Samedi. It’s called Thanatosis, and if you think that’s bad, imagine what it can do to a person. I could hear yelling, and I could then hear screaming. Then it was silent. I was certain that someone had called the police. He came back out, not a hair out of place, got in the car, and drove off.

We found the cocaine. They had stashed it in a warehouse. He apparently got that information from one of the Sabbat members. Junie had already called a truck to come pick it up, and Ricardo met us at the warehouse.

“So, I heard that you went on an adventure,” he said to me.

“Of course I did. I was with Papa.”

“Yeah, so the Prince called me, Papa. What was this about throwing a car at a goat?”

“Oh! The goat! I need to go get it. I owe Tennoch. Have a good day!” he said, and made his way out of the warehouse singing.

“Buffalo Soldier! Dreadlock Rasta!”


End file.
